A New Year's Celebration
by somebadhat
Summary: Neither House nor Cuddy has anyone to kiss at midnight on New Year's, so they end up kissing each other.


It was December 31st, New Year's Eve. House was in his office. His team was out running tests for a patient bordering death. That was nothing unusual at all. Chase, Foreman, Thirteen, and Taub had the week off for the Holidays before the case came in and Cuddy forced House and the kiddies back to the hospital. When the complaints came rolling in, her exact words were, "_The world doesn't stop for holidays, and neither does this hospital. Deal with it."_

And so the team begrudgingly came in, but none more begrudgingly than House. He limped into the hospital with his blue backpack slung over his shoulder, muttering about this _damn_ hospital and that _damn_ sick person, and of course his _damn_ boss.

Although he muttered about these things under his breath, this hospital kept him afloat. He depended on those sick people for the puzzles his mind loved. And he needed his boss, for she was one of the few people in his life who was constant.

The blue backpack was tossed unceremoniously onto the reclining chair in his office and he had sat down slowly, where he was currently playing with trinkets and toys. That was his way of figuring out those insane theories and diseases that were almost always right in the end. Almost.

Deep in thought, the phone rang. He let it go unanswered because, right now at least, he wasn't dealing with that.

The ringing stopped and seconds later it began again. Whoever was calling him was being stupidly persistent. Gruffly, he took the phone off the receiver and put it to his face.

"Greg House," he said in an annoyed tone.

"Greg, it's me," the voice on the other line answered. That voice belonged to Blythe House, his mother.

House sighed a deep breath. "Hey, Mom."

"I was calling to say Happy New Year's Eve." There was a pause.

"Oh, um, thanks… Happy New Year's to you, too." His voice sounded a little awkward.

"How have you been?"

"Fine, I guess." He answered.

"Anything new in your life?" she asked. She asked him every time they spoke, and he always answered with a _no_.

"No, not since last time you asked, Mom." The phone was now held between his jaw and his shoulder as he twirled his big tennis ball in his hands idly.

There was Blythe's typical answer, right on queue.

"So no one special to give a New Year's kiss when the clock strikes twelve?" she pressed. There was a hint of hope in her voice. No one would want their child to be lonely, and Blythe knew her son was a lonesome man.

House stopped moving the ball around in his hands. Silence fell over the line as he faltered for a moment.

"No, Mom. No one special," he muttered quietly.

"Well," Blythe said, "that's too bad."

House glanced up from his desk for a moment and saw Cuddy strut confidently past his office with a look on her face that told him she was on a mission. It caught his eye. A look like that on a woman was something to cherish.

"Yeah, it is," he mumbled absent mindedly as he watched Cuddy disappear around the corner through the glass wall of his office. He snapped out of his reverie and brought his attention back to the phone call with his mother.

"Do you have any plans yourself?" he asked, making small talk as he hated to do. Only for his mother, he thought.

"I can hear in your voice you aren't interested in small talk, Greg." His mom really did know him.

"Yeah, sorry. My patient is on the fence between living and dying and I haven't got a clue. It's on my mind."

Blythe said, "I'd better let you get back to that then."

"Ok, Mom."

"Bye, Greg. I love you."

"I love you too." he said quickly.

"And Greg?"

"Yeah?" House said.

"Do try to call more often. I miss you."

"I'll try." And that was the answer he always gave when Blythe would always ask that of him. He never really did.

[H] [H] [H] [H]

His team searched high and low for an answer. Later in the day they began searching through medical encyclopedias on the off-chance they came across a sliver of hope. It was a slow process of offering up and shooting down ideas.

Even worse, House could hardly concentrate. House was always the Hail Mary pass, the last ditch effort. The team was there to help lead him to the answer, but it almost always rested on his shoulders in the end.

"Come on, people, DDX. Cough, chest pain, blood-tinged sputum and trouble breathing. What is it?" He questioned bad temperedly.

At the same time, all he could think about was Cuddy. It was what his mom said that brought this on. _So no one special? _Of course there was no one special. There was never anyone special. Not since Stacy at least.

Well, Cuddy was special. Kind of. Mostly they just danced around the idea that she could be special for at least fifteen years, especially those years which he had worked under her.

"If we knew she wouldn't be dying…" Chased muttered under his breath.

House glared at him.

"Go take a break," he said. "All of you." The team looked at him in shock and stood slowly. Usually on cases like this he didn't give out favors when everyone got frustrated. Really, he couldn't think much himself anyways.

He would go visit Wilson to talk and hopefully come across an answer, but he was on holiday and not in the hospital. At that point he realized that other than Wilson and the team, he didn't have anyone to talk to.

He decided to hop down to see what Cuddy was up to.

She was in her office on the phone. Rather than being polite and waiting till she finished her conversation, he walked in without knocking and sat on her couch. An annoyed look was sent to him from Cuddy. In return House just smirked.

Cuddy continued to talk on the phone while scratching something on a piece of paper. She balled the paper up and threw it at House from her desk, hitting him in the chest. It read: _GO AWAY._ Cuddy looked back down at her desk, not paying attention to him any longer.

Standing up, he walked over to her desk, picked up a pen, and wrote a message of his own. He sat in one of the two chairs positioned in front of her desk. The paper was balled up again and thrown at Cuddy even though he was about a foot away from her. The ball hit her square in the face and she snorted an unrestrained laugh.

Realizing her mistake, she played it off as cough, seeing as she was probably on the phone with someone important.

"Eh-hem, excuse me Mr. Robertson. I must be catching something."

House's smirk grew at her lame excuse. She opened the paper ball to see he had written "_No thanks_."

She smirked a little even though she should probably be mad at such an insubordinate act, but she had to admit. It was kind of funny.

House pulled out his PSP and began playing games. He could feel Cuddy rolling her eyes at him but it was all the more amusing to him.

She finally got off the phone a couple minutes later. The phone was put down as she stood. "What on earth do you want?"

She walked around her desk and stood waiting for an answer in front of House.

"Just let me finish this level," he said.

The click of her heels told him she was leaving her office. He jumped up out of his seat and followed her into the clinic lobby.

"Hey, where you going?" He was walking next to her now.

"Dinner in the cafeteria," she sighed.

"I'll go down there with you to grab something before I go back upstairs to the team. Don't worry, it's on you."

She put on a face of obviously fake gratitude. "Thanks, House!"

They went through the line, Cuddy getting a sandwich and House grabbing a bag of potato chips and a pop. It was all paid for by Cuddy. Together they found a table and began munching on their food.

"Have you figured out what's wrong with your patient?" she asked.

He shook his head. "We haven't got a clue."

"What have you ruled out so far?" she asked uncertainly.

"Everything, basically." He shoved another chip into his mouth and stared at the table, trying to think things over again. Glancing up, he noticed Cuddy was deep in thought too.

She got this look when she was deep in thought, her eyebrows furrowed a bit and she seemed so focused, and House had to admit it was pretty damn beautiful.

"It's New Year's Eve," he mentioned out of the blue.

She looked at him and put her chin in her hand.

"Yeah, and?"

"Do you have anyone special to give a New Year's kiss when the clock strikes twelve?" He was giving her the same question his mom had asked him.

She gave him a long look before answering, "No, not this year."

"That's too bad," he said.

She took another bite of her sandwich and swallowed. She thought for a moment.

"Yeah, it is."

House had a sudden moment where he completely blanked out, lost in his own mind. Cuddy stared at him.

"Are you having a sudden epiphany about your patient that's going to cause you to suddenly and mysteriously leave the room?"

He nodded. "I think I might be."

She smiled a bit and made a shooing motion. "Then go and do your thing," she said fondly.

"Thanks for the chips."

[H] [H] [H] [H]

He walked into the DDX room and his team looked at him expectantly.

"I know what it is. Lymphangioleiomyomatosis."

Thirteen thought about it. "It only affects females and the symptoms fit."

"It's rare but it works." Chase agreed, putting his pen behind his ear and leaning back in his chair.

Foreman, the cynic of the group (other than House of course), had to chime in. "The only treatment is a lung transplant, and even then it's a long shot at her stage."

"Don't be such a Debbie Downer," House said sarcastically. He turned around to leave but Taub called out.

"Where are you going?"

"My work here is done, boys. And Thirteen. I'm going home."

[H] [H] [H] [H]

He sat alone in his apartment with the news on. Every other year he skipped watching the ball drop in New York because it all seemed really pointless. The ball didn't even really _drop_, it was just another clock. The fact that it started a minute before midnight was the only thing that made it special.

He owned a watch so he was all set.

This year he figured, no harm done. He may as well just turn the damn TV set on. He sat at his piano and played a few leisurely tunes before midnight came. His eyes were closed as he let his fingers find their own way around the piano.

With five minutes left, he began to sing a little. It was a nice and lazy song he loved to play on nights like that this.

One minute left before he could go to bed like any other day of the year.

There was a knock on his door, and he limped over to answer it without his cane. The door swung open and Cuddy was standing there, slightly out of breath as though she had tried to get here quickly.

"Do you have anyone to kiss when the clock strikes twelve?" she asked.

"No, I don't," House answered with a somewhat questioning expression.

"Me either," she said.

House looked at his watch. "It's midnight now."

"Yeah, it is." He looked and her, and she looked at him.

House leaned into her and put his lips to hers.

She deepened the kiss, lightly moving with House backwards into his apartment and using her foot to shut the door behind her the way someone does when their hands are full. And, boy, did she have her hands full. Her hands were resting on his chest comfortably as House wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her closer.

House was kissing her good and hard, his tongue grazing her teeth slightly. Cuddy moaned quietly, which drove House nuts.

Cuddy gave a small tug on the front of his jeans to which he just nodded. House and Cuddy moved to his bedroom, where they would be celebrate the New Year.

In fact, they celebrated the New Year more than once that night.


End file.
